


Smoke and Mirrors

by Inkblot0Blue



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Pillow Talk, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29403567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkblot0Blue/pseuds/Inkblot0Blue
Summary: The cigarettes are always there. SPINEL ones, with the blue and grey cellophane packaging.Akane, Ginoza, and the ghost that lingers between them at night.
Relationships: Ginoza Nobuchika/Kougami Shinya/Tsunemori Akane, Ginoza Nobuchika/Tsunemori Akane
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Smoke and Mirrors

...The cigarettes are always there. SPINEL ones, with the blue and grey cellophane packaging, from the vending machine upstairs. 

“ _Don’t_ you start…” he mutters, burying his face into the pillow. 

Akane ignores him, and reaches across him, fumbling in the streaks of cold blue holo light for his lighter and ashtray. She doesn’t think until she takes a drag— _oh_ , how it _burns_ in her throat; makes her _gag_. 

“It’s stupid, isn’t it,” she begins, tapping ash into the tray. It’s difficult to speak about this; always has been, and so they avoid the topic. “I started because… I thought it would help me think _like_ him.”

She turns back to him; a humourless smile quirks up the shadow of his lips. “Me too. Not that it ever worked, but...”

Nobuchika trails off and Akane takes another drag; swallows down a cough, the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

“...I miss _him_ .” she says, because this is the closest they’ll ever get to mentioning the _damn_ man. “And I miss _them_ . I miss them, and I’m _angry_ and—”

Akane stops herself; quashes the cigarette into the tray. Nobuchika wordlessly moves it back to the table for her. Cigarettes aren’t good for her Hue. Shion says as much, not that she’s ever followed her own advice. 

She looks at him again; worries at her lip. “I’m sorry.”

He exhales. “Not your fault.”

“Not yours either,” she answers, a little too quickly. 

Nobuchika doesn’t say anything to that, so she just settles back into his touch; his smell. Light incense and a faint, oaky, muskiness. Seems he’s still allowed such creature comforts. 

Akane shifts just a little; looks up at him. His beautiful eyes — green, not deep blue like _his_ — are downcast, as usual. She reaches out; runs her fingers through the thick dark strands of hair. She wonders what he’d look like if he grew it out.

Then she sighs and relaxes; feels Nobuchika wrap his arm — she doesn’t flinch at the cold metal anymore — around her. His fingers trace circles in her bare skin, down to her bony hips, and just for a moment Akane wonders if she could get used to this. 

Wonders if this ~~harsh concrete jungle~~ plastic beautiful world ever makes exceptions.

And sometimes, she knows:

Sibyl does make exceptions. 


End file.
